I Can Do Anything
by UnderTheJackPine
Summary: Determination: a quality that makes someone do or achieve something. It is a quality that drives Atlanta, quit is not a word that is in her vocabulary.


Hey guys,

Here is a little three part flash fiction series on Atlanta. I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

As always thanks for reading!

* * *

The air was cool on Atlanta's face. She drank it in as she ran. Darting in and out of the spruce with the bow her father had fashioned to fit her tiny arms, child sized. Her little feet were light and quiet. The soft soil and bed of needles muffled her footsteps. She was a caribou, running through the forest to welcome back spring. The cold nip of a lingering winter pinched her cheeks until they were red, but she didn't care. The cold was refreshing.

The forest was alive. Birds chirped in the branches of the evergreens and darted from tree to tree. A few remaining patches of snow hid the scurrying lemmings. The smell of sap floated everywhere. Atlanta welcomed the sent in her nose. It calmed her and excited her all at the same time. Just to be outside. It was a beautiful day.

She pushed through a stand of spruce. Their needles brushed her face and her hands. She could hear the river before she could see it. The water roaring as it crashed downstream. The ice cracked and shattered as it was jarred loose from the whitewater. Atlanta shivered with anticipation. She could hardly wait to see the river.

She emerged from the stand of spruce, her hands sticky from sap. A grin sped across her face. The waterfall was tall, tall and narrow. It tumbled over the lip of a cliff. A cloud of mist bellowed where it crashed into the basin below. The cliff was slicked with ice. It glimmered and sparkled when the sun peaked out from behind the clouds.

Atlanta jogged for the edge of the water. She dropped to her knees on the ice. Placing one hand on the rock that jutted up like a pillar she steadied herself. She reached down with her other hand to touch the water. It was ice cold. It was clear and beautiful as it rushed over her skin. It prickled and numbed. The muscles in her hand ached when she took it back from the water's icy embrace.

Balling her frozen hand into her pocket Atlanta stood. Her fingertips explored the crevices and cracks in the rock pillar. She looked up, trying to spot its top. It jutted straight up into the sky. It blocked her view of the waterfall.

Her hand was warm enough. She let it back out into the chill air. She set it down on the rock. It was cold under both her palms. She set the toes of her sneakers into a crack and she started to climb. She went up and up. Purchase was easy to find in the stone. The wind whipped at her hair when she rose above the cover of the trees.

She spotted her bothers. They had almost caught up with her. They bumbled through the branches of the spruce, snapping branches and tromping their feet. Useless, they were useless. She looked up again and pushed forward. Her toes and fingers found ledges and crooks to give her leverage. She climbed like it was easy as ascending a set of stairs.

"Atlanta!" she startled and her foot slipped. Clenching her teeth her fingers dug into the rock. She set her toes back and relaxed. She took in a deep breath before she looked down. Her two brothers had found her. They shielded their eyes as they looked up to her.

"What?" she hollered down to them.

"What are you doing?" the oldest of her younger brothers called, "Get down from there. If mom knew you were up there she would flip."

"No way," she smirked to herself and turned her attention up. She climbed. Her brothers screamed at her. She just ignored them. As if it was as natural as walking she went higher and higher.

Atlanta didn't know how long it took her to reach the top. She wasn't counting the time. She reached her hand over the ledge. It was icy on the top. The mist from the waterfall froze to the rock. She hauled herself up, pushing with the strength in her legs.

The water tumbling down sprayed her in the face. She gasped at the cold at first, but then she laughed. She laughed deep with joy and got to her feet. Reaching her arms out wide she welcomed the cool sensation of the water.

She turned on the flat topped peak and looked out. The mountains rolled out before her. The icecaps poked up from the sea of green spruce. The white rapids twisted and turned down into a valley where it became a lake. Ice clung to the edges of the deep blue water.

Atlanta laughed again and twirled. It was exhilarating. She screamed to the sky and danced. She tossed her arm out and hollered over the sound of the roaring water, "I can do anything!"

* * *

Atlanta sat at the back of the bleachers, her elbows on her knees and her fists smashed into her cheeks. How much longer? She wrestled her PMR from her pocket to check the time. The cheerleading tryouts were supposed to be finished ten minutes ago. The field hockey team had their own tryouts to get on with.

"Maybe I should try out," Theresa said, watching the new grade nines struggle with the routine the seniors threw out.

"Please Theresa," Atlanta rolled her eyes and leaned back against the bleacher behind her.

"What, I could do all those moves no problem," she said.

"Just because you can doesn't mean you should," Atlanta scoffed.

Theresa laughed and turned her attention back to the cheerleaders.

"Hey," Atlanta cupped her mouth and yelled down, "Time's been up for ten minutes."

"Atlanta," Theresa gave a hash whisper and smacked the side of her leg.

"Filed hockey," the captain turned around, her lips puckered up in a sneer, "Can't you take it outside?"

"Take yours outside, we've got the gym booked," Atlanta barked back.

"We bring home more trophies than you," she said, "I don't think anyone will mind if we go a little over."

"I mind," she got to her feet and tromped down the bleaches, hands balled up in fists.

"Little tom boy Atlanta is angry," the captain taunted, a smug smile on her face.

"Get out," Atlanta said, coming right up into the blonde girl's face, "The gym is ours."

"What do you even do in field hockey," she scoffed, "Run around and hit a ball with a stick. Come on, it's obvious which sport requires more skill. Take your practice outside."

"And you just jump around and yell things at an octave only dogs can hear," Atlanta shot back.

"Well I bet you can't do it," the captain crossed her arms over her chest and cast her a doubting look.

"Oh yeah?" Atlanta backed away and stormed onto the gym linoleum floor. She tore two yellow pompoms away from a gawking cheerleader and turned to sneer at the captain.

"Go," she said impatiently, flipping her hand in the air.

"Ready. Okay," Atlanta clapped her pompoms together and then tossed them into the air. Her voice was so high pitched Theresa covered her ears. Atlanta continued in the mocking tone, narrating everything she was doing, "Jumpy, jumpy, jumpy splits."

She rocketed a kick into the air that morphed into a back flip. Theresa had seen her use that on a few giants in the past. She covered her mouth with her hand to keep her laughter in. Atlanta fell on her hands and sprung herself back to her feet. The amazement was on the face of every cheerleader, every one except the captain's. Her lips were puckered in aggravation.

"Twirly, twirly, twirly flip," Atlanta continued, maneuvering her body with equal, if not more skill than any of the cheerleaders.

She landed on her feet from a no handed cartwheel and tossed the pompoms on the floor in a rage. The girl sitting next to the captain began to applause, but the blonde stopped her, shaking her head in disapproval.

"I can do anything bitches," Atlanta yelled and stormed away. She called to the field hockey team as she left, beckoning them with a sweep of her arm, "Come on, let's take tryouts outside."

"So like, is she joining the team," the ditzy girl beside the captain asked. The captain just shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"No," Theresa spoke up as she rose with the rest of the field hockey team, a huge grin on her face, "I'm going to go with no." The team erupted into long overdue laughter.

* * *

Archie held the electric razor. He ran it over her head and her red locks tumbled to the bathroom floor. Atlanta was stone. Her fists clenched the fabric of her pants. She stared at her reflection in the mirror with hard eyes. How was she keeping it together? Archie could feel his own tears beginning to prick at his eyes. He blinked them from his vision.

This wasn't supposed to happen. It was never supposed to happen to her. That's how everyone sees it, tragedies that will never happen to you. It wasn't fair. She had saved the world and this was how fate repaid her. She was still so young. The razor vibrated against his palm. It's buzzing was the only sound. It was so loud.

Her hair tickled his hand as it floated down from her head. It was soft against his skin. Would he ever get the chance to run his fingers through it again? He cut the last piece behind her ear and it tumbled to her shoulder. He flicked the razor off and set it on the counter, his hand shaking.

Standing behind her he brushed off the fire red strands from her shoulder and it tumbled down to join the rest of her hair on the floor. It all lay in a circle around the chair. He looked at Atlanta in the mirror, her mouth still a thin line. This made it so much more real.

Archie watched his own face contort as the tears threatened to break loose. He averted his eyes to the top of Atlanta's bald head. With gentle fingers he ran his hand over her smooth skin. Sucking in a deep breath interrupted by sniffles he leaned down and pressed his lips to her head.

"Archie?" she said and he looked up, finding her eyes on him through the mirror, "It's going to be okay."

A tear escaped and trailed its way down his cheek, "I'm supposed to be the one telling you that."

She looked back to her own reflection, stone once again. She watched herself for a long time. Slowly she reached a hand up and touched her scalp. Only with her fingertips at first, then she ran her whole palm over her skin.

Archie reached for the red wig lying on the bathroom counter. It was Theresa's strawberry blond hair. He motioned to place it on her head, but she held up a hand to stop him.

"No," she said, "I don't want to hide who I am."

He had to admire her pride, he smirked as he set the wig back onto the counter, "You're beautiful."

She didn't smile. Her mouth remained that thin line etched into stone.

"Are you scared?" he asked, desperate for a glance at her thoughts.

"I'd be a fool not to be," she said, her answer was blunt.

"You will beat this," he said. A certainty that he hadn't intended seeped through on his voice, but when he heard it, he knew it to be true.

Her smile was fierce, and alive. She was stone no longer, she was fire. Her eyes sparked when they flashed to his in the mirror. With the ferocity he knew well she said, "I know, I can do anything."


End file.
